


Wires through my veins

by CertifiedPissWizard



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied Character Death, Implied Torture, Mechanism!Lyf, Multi, Nightmares, No editing we die like mechs, Panic Attacks, Recovery, They get better though, Trauma, because here you go, being trans is just: you can have little a name symbolism as a treat, for now >:), gratuitous depictions of being held, hi did you ask for hurt/comfort, i need to find a good mountain goats quote, imagine a good summary god i wish, implied forced suicide, like they legit have a Mechanism, lyf can have little a trauma recovery as a treat, nightmare slumber parties, none of the bad stuff is explicit i want to reiterate, not just that they join the crew, slumber parties, teeth :), the toy soldier just wants to be helpful and farm teeth, this is just recovery and soft times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/pseuds/CertifiedPissWizard
Summary: They come back together and the first thing they see is von Raum, and they want to swear. Von Raum never hurt them though, never gave them a gun and told them to fire with the knowledge that the gun would end up turning back upon themself. They’re as safe as they can be with von Raum, so they let their eyes close and simply drift.After leaving Yggdrasil to its destruction at the hands of Yog Sothoth, Lyfrassir ends up dying. Luckily, or unluckily depending on your perspective, Dr. Carmilla is there to bring them back. Luckily for Lyfrassir, the Mechanisms are there to help them recover from dealing with Carmilla once she's done with her experimenting.
Comments: 43
Kudos: 156
Collections: Stowaways' Shenanigans





	1. Chapter 1

They come back together and the first thing they see is von Raum, and they want to swear. Von Raum never hurt them though, never gave them a gun and told them to fire with the knowledge that the gun would end up turning back upon themself. They’re as safe as they can be with von Raum, so they let their eyes close and simply drift. There are arms holding them, warm arms. They know that they aren’t going to be hurt. They lean into the chest. They hum. They focus on the warmth, the rocking, the smell of pine rosin. They think that someone is speaking, feel the rumble in the chest. They keep their eyes closed, keep drifting. They aren’t cold anymore. They aren’t alone anymore. Carmilla would have forced them awake now. Given some small bit of comfort and then launched into another test, another experiment. It would have hurt and they probably would have died again, either at her hands or at their own. Then they’d be alone again and tired. Nobody is doing that, though. She’s gone and Lyfrassir is being held and they are safe. There’s a hand in their hair, combing through it. They properly fall asleep, and for the first time since the Bifrost consumed their home, they do not dream. They do not dream, and when they shift awake for a moment there is still that warmth, that hand in their hair, so they sleep again, still safe, still not alone.

When they properly wake up it is slow, easy, drifting. Their eyes stay closed, and they stay still, listening. “I’m concerned.” Alexandria. “From what experience we have with regenerating, Inspector Lyf shouldn’t still be asleep, or have passed out at all. If Carmilla was involved, then she did something different with them. We don’t know what she did.” Alexandria sounds worried. Lyfrassir is still tired, but since they were picked up by the Mechs, they suppose that it’s the least they can do to not worry them too much. They slowly, carefully, tiredly open their eyes. Alexandria is sitting by them on the bed they’re on. That’s where some of the warmth was coming from, they suppose. They’re still too tired to speak, so they gently nudge her. She turns. “You’re awake.” They nod. Their blinks are still slow, their eyelids still heavy with sleep. They are still so terribly tired. “What happened, Inspector?”  
“Lyfrassir.”

“What happened, Lyfrassir?”

“She killed me. Again.” They close their eyes again, suddenly rendered even more exhausted by saying it, and they curl into Alexandria. Even in the most violent escape attempts, which were apparently unnecessary because they could have left at any time, von Raum, la Cognizi, and Alexandria never hurt them. They’re as safe as they can be. There’s a hand in their hair again, though this time they know who’s. They don’t sleep or drift. They just lay there, resting, and feeling safe.

An unknown voice speaks up. “I’ll tell Brian to get us as far from here as possible.” The voice sounds tight. Lyfrassir decides at the current moment to not look too much into it. They don’t want to think about Carmilla or the Bifrost or dying or rainbows or the songs that haunt them in so many of their dreams. They just want to think about warmth and the hand in their hair and the fact that nobody’s killed them yet. “Take care of your Inspector.” Footsteps leaving the room.

“I will.” There’s a pause, before Alexandria starts back up again. “You should probably eat something.” They hum in response. They don’t move. They are so very tired. She sighs. “Marius! Come pick up your datemate!” More footsteps. Then Lyfrassir is being held again. They press themselves in to von Raum as closely as they can. His arms are steady, and there’s a rocking motion when he carries them.

“Aren’t you tired of napping yet, Inspector Lyf?” von Raum laughs, like he thinks that he’s funny. Lyfrassir doesn’t know where the hell he got that idea from.

“I’m just tired.” Lyfrassir tries for a moment to curl in even closer. von Raum laughs again. It’s a nice laugh, gentle, amused. “Besides, none of you have killed me yet. I’m safe now.” von Raum doesn’t laugh this time, just holds them tighter. They wonder if von Raum is fond of them in some way.

“Yeah.” Silence, except for the humming of the ship and the sound of breathing. “Well if you do too much more sleeping then I’ll never let you have a moment of peace from my violin again. Alright, Inspector?” It’s their turn to let out a soft huff of laughter.

“If you say so, von Raum.” Time passes, and passes, and passes, stretching on into infinity, and then there’s the smell of food, and they and von Raum are shifting so that they can stand on the ground by themself. Their eyelids open again, and von Raum looks at them, concern coloring his features. “So how are you doing?” they ask, preforming the most masterful deflection the world has ever seen. Should they perhaps not be providing von Raum an opening to pull out his violin? They most certainly should not provide that opening. They do, though. The normalcy of being annoyed by von Raum would be nice just now. They want to not think about Carmilla or concerned expressions or just a lot of things, and getting pissed off at von Raum is a very nice and easy way to go about dealing with that. It is a very nice and easy way to go about dealing with that. There has, perhaps, never been an easier way to find themself distracted.

von Raum looks at them for a moment, unsure. They role their eyes, gesture some. von Raum pulls out a violin and starts in, and they start snapping and for a moment everything is almost normal. They don’t bother to hide the slight smile on their face, because although they’d never willingly admit it they have missed being pissed off at von Raum. Given the slight smile on von Raum’s face, they can guess he missed pissing them off too.


	2. Chapter 2

The kitchen is hectic. Honestly Lyfrassir should have expected that, but still, it does come as a bit of a surprise. Two Mechs they don’t know are cooking what looks like pancakes, while another one stand watching. Two of them have a long coat and incredible hair, and the third is wearing what looks like some sort of an attempt at a military uniform. Lyfrassir glances at von Raum for a minute, who urges them inside, so they go and sit at the bar. One of the ones cooking the pancakes appears to be named Tim. The other they haven’t caught the name of yet, but apparently it keeps trying to add teeth to the pancakes, for flavor. The one supervising might be named Nastya. They think that’s the case. They’ll need to learn last names later. von Raum is sitting next to them, which shouldn’t be as reassuring as it is, but it comes down to the fact that von Raum has never once hurt them, even when given ample opportunity. None of the people cooking turn their gazes towards the bar, which is also nice. It’s probably stupid that they’re being so skittish.

They sit with von Raum, and watch Tim make pancakes while Nastya tries to stop TS? From adding teeth for flavor, because what if the new crew member is sad? The flavor of teeth would probably make them perk right up! Cheerio! Lyfrassir gives von Raum a look, silently begging for some form of an explanation. von Raum not only denies them the explanation that they so deeply desire, but he also chooses to draw the attention of everyone in the whole entire kitchen to right where he and Lyfrassir are sitting. “Hey! When are the pancakes going to be ready? Inspector Lyf needs food.” Lyfrassir tries not to flinch when the one supervising, Nastya, turns her gaze over to where they and von Raum are sitting. “They’re probably very hungry. After dying.” Lyfrassir redoubles their efforts not to flinch when Nastya turns her gaze to them.

“So you’re Marius’s datemate.” Lyfrassir slowly shakes their head and tries to ignore the sudden animal fear surging up in their veins. When Carmilla looked at them like that it typically meant that she had another experiment in store, looking at them like Lyfrassir was being sized up against some sort of internal ranking system. It was, uncomfortable to say the least. They didn’t say anything about it. They didn’t say anything about it and it looked like she was saying something else but they couldn’t hear it over the ringing pulse of blood in their ears and their chest hurt and they couldn’t breathe and she was looking at them like Carmilla did when she wanted to test out something new like how painful it would be to try and adjust the bioprogramming of an already installed mechanism and that look leads to screaming and then something is in their hands and they look down and its teeth spilling around in the cup their hands were turned into.

There’s a hand on their shoulder and they just stare at the teeth that somehow got into their hands and try to breathe and just think about that and not the fact that they’re being touched or how they know exactly how loudly they can scream. “Inspector?” The voice of the one who was trying to add teeth to the pancakes. “Are you unwell?” Lyfrassir doesn’t respond, can’t find the words, nor the sound, nor the will to open their mouth and try. TS? It nods and pats their shoulder, murmuring something about how shellshock can affect even the best soldiers. Lyfrassir tunes it out. The teeth stand out against their hands in color and texture and shape. It’s interesting. They focus on their breathing. The world slips back into place around them. von Raum is asking Nastya to never do whatever she just did again. Tim, from what it sounds like, is still making pancakes, and TS has the hand on their shoulder. They wonder for a split second how many teeth are in their hands. Then they wonder about the much more important question.

“Where did you get the teeth?” Lyfrassir looks up at TS. “I mean, this is a lot of teeth. Where did they come from? Did you just go around stealing teeth? Inquiring minds want to know. Where did you source the teeth?” They raise their hands still cupping teeth as though to drive home the point that it’s a lot of teeth.  
“Don’t be silly, Inspector! You know where teeth come from.” Its wooden face looks at him, very impressive painted mustache swirling about the sort of mouth you’d expect to see a toy nutcracker have. “I got them from the tooth tree!” They give it a look. The phrase tooth tree answers none of their questions and raises so many more.

“What’s a tooth tree?” They don’t want to know. Why did they ask? They don’t want to know. It looks at them and smiles. They think they understand now. They regret this sudden fresh understanding of these teeth. They very much regret that. “Oh. People are what you mean by tooth trees.” TS nods, excited that they understand what it’s trying to say. They, on the other hand are not excited.

“They’re organic, too! All I have to do is wait for my friends to die! Then I can get their teeth! And they won’t come back until I get all of the teeth!” It sounds very excited. Lyfrassir is trapped somewhere between horrified and fascinated. It’s better than being trapped with Carmilla.

“Inspector.” Nastya calls out from behind them. They turn. “I apologize for causing you to have a panic attack. Although I don’t know why my actions could have conceivably caused you to have one, and therefore think that I should not be apologizing. However Marius insists that I do anyways.” She isn’t looking at them like she’s sizing them up to some inner scale anymore. She’s looking at them like she thinks that they are dangerously unstable and she might set them off at a wrong move.

“That’s alright. Just, just don’t look at me the way you were then again? It. Yeah. That sort of look doesn’t normally mean good things for me.” Lyfrassir tries to not curl in on themself. They fail their will saving throw, however, and they do curl in on themself. They also proceed to stop looking at people and go back to looking at the teeth that are apparently harvested from the various people on the ship. It is incredibly unnerving, and they are incredibly tired, especially after their miniature breakdown that they just had.

“Alright then,” Nastya replies. TS stares at Nastya, and then it stares at Lyfrassir like by simply staring it can divine how the way Nastya was staring at Lyfrassir was responsible. It doesn’t say anything. It does, however, scoop the teeth out of Lyfrassir’s hands and go back over to where Tim is making pancakes.

“They need more teeth.”

“The pancakes are done, TS. Give it a rest. Come and get your food.” Tim looks over to where Lyfrassir and Nastya are sitting. von Raum swoops from behind Lyfrassir.

“I’ll get your pancakes for you, Inspector Lyf. Don’t worry! They’ll have extra teeth.”

“Teeth are an important part of a complete breakfast!” The toy soldier very helpfully chimes in. Lyfrassir and Nastya both end up sighing in unison.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey shoutout to owlflight for leaving the long comment on the last chapter. i may have taken minor inspiration from it,,,,,,

Breakfast proves almost more hectic than the kitchen was by itself. Almost the very second the pancakes are done the rest of the Mechanisms come piling in, and they’re loud and jostle into each other. It’s almost but not quite too much, which is the only reason Lyfrassir doesn’t immediately try and get out of the kitchen and find a small place to hide. None of the Mechs talk to them really, and it almost seems like they’re all being purposefully subdued to try and make Lyfrassir more comfortable. It’s still strange every time they get mentioned and von Raum calls them Inspector Lyf or Lyf. They haven’t been called either of those in a long time. They don’t know how they’re supposed to feel about it, so they try and ignore the strange feelings it summons in their chest and focus on removing the teeth from their pancakes. When von Raum said he’d make sure Lyfrassir’s pancakes would have extra teeth they didn’t think he was serious.

“So.” One of the Mechs Lyfrassir hasn’t met yet opens their mouth. “What did the Doc do to you?” There’s an interesting mix of callous curiosity and concern in their voice. Lyfrassir places the voice as the one who was talking to Ivy while they were in the medbay. “I mean, not like, what horrible bullshit she did. What did she replace?” The bit of backtracking is interesting, but Lyfrassir doesn’t dwell too hard on it. They’d rather not think of Carmilla at all if they could help it. Still though, it’s important enough information to merit sharing they suppose.

“Replaced my nervous system.” Lyfrassir’s voice wants to catch within their throat. “What’s your name and pronouns?” They look to the ones they don’t know the names of yet, and they also turn their gaze to the ones they hadn’t learned the pronouns of yet. By that, of course, they mean they end up looking at most of the table. Their gaze passes over la Cognizi for a minute. She, for some reason, doesn’t meet their eyes. Lyfrassir wonders what they did to upset her. On the one hand, la Cognizi wouldn’t hurt them, given past experience, but on the other hand it wasn’t a good idea to upset Carmilla. la Cognizi isn’t Carmilla, of course, but the fact she seems upset is still enough to make them want to run from the room. They may want to run from the kitchen to find a small place to curl into a ball and just avoid everyone and everything, but that doesn’t exactly give them an excuse to be rude. Although, they’d be very happy if someone appeared out of nowhere to inform them that that was actually the case.

“Jonny d’Ville. He/him pronouns, and I am your humble captain.” He gives off the impression that if he could, he would be doing an incredibly dramatic bow to emphasize what he was saying. He was very clearly a theatre kid when he was younger.

“First Mate!” Everyone else chimes in.

Then d’Ville resumes providing introductions, instead of allowing the others at the table to introduce themselves. Looking at the expressions everyone else at the table has, this appears to be a normal thing. “This,” he gestures to someone with very good hair. Everyone on the ship has good hair. Lyfrassir finds this blatantly unfair. “Is our quartermaster, the infamous Ashes O’Reilly. They are well known for burning down the planet Malone.” O’Reilly waves. “This,” he gestures to Tim, “Is Gunpowder Tim. He/him pronouns. He is our master at arms and blew up a moon.” Lyfrassir cannot process this right now. They are incapable of processing this. “This,” he waves to one the other one that Lyfrassir is unfamiliar with, “is Drumbot Brian, our pilot. Also He/Him.” He gestures to Nastya, “This is Nastya Rasputina. She is our ship’s engineer and also our ship’s lover.” He gives Lyfrassir a much appreciated moment to process the phrase “our ship’s lover.” Lyfrassir is confused, curious, and also incredibly frightened by this. “Of course, you have already met Raphaella la Cognizi, our science officer, Baron Marius von Raum, our ship’s doctor, and Ivy Alexandria, our archivist.” D’Ville sighs, before gesturing at TS. “This is the Toy Soldier. It’s. It’s just sort of here.”

“Lyfrassir Edda. They/them pronouns.” They wave awkwardly. They start eating their pancakes so they don’t have to say anything else. d’Ville starts talking about what their next song cycle is going to be, and everyone jumps in with different comments. It descends into a full fledged argument about whether or not they should compose something about the war between the Nords and the great star giant Grendel or Dante’s attempts to escape the virtual realms of the planet Puragtorio. Maybe eating the pancakes gave them a sudden surge of daring, but they impulsively ask, “Could you tell me about those?”

The Mechs are more than happy to tell Lyfrassir the stories, and they are more than happy to listen. They are also more than happy to ignore how some pieces are being left out of the stories, parts being glossed over when they border on the upsetting. It’s strange, of course, for Lyfrassir. In part because they spent years with Carmilla having their own health and comfort placed to the side because they could just come back anyways, and in part because here they are taking comfort in the presence of killers and renegades and liars. It’s nice, listening to these stories, hearing the cadence of the words, the little asides and tangents, the background information. It’s nice hearing all of that.

Hours go by like this. They sit at a kitchen table with all of these people who most of them they only met that day, and they just listen to stories. Occasionally they offer a few short pieces up from when they were an Inspector still, but they don’t do that much. It hurts to think about, because those days are as long gone as that planet and solar system and sleep without nightmares. Still, they do tell some short pieces. It gets la Cognizi to even meet their eyes a few times. They still don’t know why she’s avoiding doing that, but they do their best to not think of that before they start spiraling again. They mostly just listen and feel safe and marvel at the novelty of feeling safe.

Of course, the whole day isn’t spent like that, although most of it is. Somehow what was supposed to be breakfast gets stretched into being lunch as well and then it’s stretched still some more. There hasn’t been the slightest bit of a consensus as to which song cycle would get composed. There’s a soft warmness to the atmosphere of the room. Lyfrassir is still so terribly tired. Before they know it they’re drowsing at the table, with their head on Alexandria’s shoulder. It’s comfortable. There’s an arm around their shoulder. The conversation seems to quiet down some, but that can’t possibly be the case because why would they be doing that just because Lyfrassir is starting to fall asleep. That would be ridiculous, taking their comfort into account like that. Still, they are safe and content and their eyes drift shut to a murmured argument about whether or not it was more impressive that O’Reilly burned down a planet or that Tim, who they’d think of by last name but so rudely lacks one, blew up the moon. Right before fading off to sleep Lyfrassir mutters that burning down a planet was a bit more impressive.

* * *

Jonny is pissed. Not to imply that being pissed off is not in fact the usual state for Jonny d’Ville, because he is angry quite often, but this is a different anger to his usual sort. It’s the sort of anger he gets when he thinks of Carmilla and how she fucked all of them up. Looking at Raph and Ivy and Marius’s inspector, it looks like she never stopped fucking lives up either. He is angry and it’s almost enough to hide the kernel of fear growing inside him. It’s almost enough, but not quite.

Here’s the thing. Jonny is not a very comforting person, and that is only in part by design of his own. Most of the issues that make it so hard for him to be comforting, to be steady and stable when people need him to be came tailor built by the “good” doctor. His mother, who was by trade a tailor, may not have tailormade him jack shit, but his issues are goddamn designer. The bioprogramming was in early days when she mechanized him and it left him strange and off and erratic and it took centuries for him to become even slightly stable. He’s very bad at the comforting thing, which is why the very second he can, apparently when Lyfrassir starts waking up, he leaves to go to tell Brian to get them out of there because Carmilla was back. Of course, Brian had already done that, the insubordinate piece of brass, and Jonny knew that he’d probably already done that. Still, there are some things that you just do whether they’d be helpful or not.

Then later there’s breakfast and Lyfrassir looks scared in the way that all of them except Raph and Marius had looked for years, the Dr. Carmilla haunts my nightmares sort of look, so Jonny forces himself to be even bigger than he normally is, summoning up the melodrama he only really lets out when he’s on stage. He draws in attention and pulls out distractions. He asks one question and then navigates away. He redirects and distracts, and he doesn’t know why they seem to relax some as he speaks and pulls the other Mechs into it, but he also doesn’t question it. There are some things you don’t question because if you understand it, really truly grasp it, it might stop working. The fact that Jonny is calming someone down for once, the fact that somehow they haven’t directly run into Carmilla, how their Mechanisms work, how somehow even when he really pisses off the other members of the crew they don’t abandon him to face Nastya and Aurora’s date nights.

He doesn’t question it, and instead chalks it up to what the story demands. He thinks too much in stories he thinks. He didn’t used to, but now his brain tries to force things into that framework. So many things fit so well into the framework too. Like how their Mechanisms all work. When they come back it always happens in a way that makes for a better story. Sometimes that means a slow regeneration sometimes that means they lose some wrinkles or grow more hair. He wonders if the fact that somehow a crew that murders each other to show affection being a source of comfort is important to Lyfrassir’s story. That might explain a few things. It also might not.

Still though, he doesn’t question it too hard. Instead he questions what their next song cycle should be, and a debate gets started and stories are told and Ashes threatens to burn Marius’s violin if he brings it out. Lyfrassir tells some stories. Jonny notices Raph not looking at them, so he whispers to Brian when he’s not telling a story for once to tell her off. Brian does. Lyfrassir calms down even more. They even tell some stories. The stories are short but good, and the ex-Inspector has the makings of a very good storyteller. They start to drowse some, and Jonny continues to be out of character and gestures for everyone to quiet down some. It’s all part of the narrative though, he thinks, or maybe the bioprogramming his heart injected into him thinks that. It’s all the same in the end.

What really matters is that the ex-Inspector agrees with Jonny that Ashes burning down a planet is infinitely cooler than Tim blowing up a moon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> come get yall angst and yalls sleepovers and yalls pov changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a nightmare scene at the begining of this chapter that isn't going to be super graphic, but will reference a lot of the dark stuff in the tabs. If you want to skip that, the rest of the chapter starts after the first line break, or you could just use ctrl+F to skip down to where Raphaella's name shows up for the first time

Lyf, because they were called Lyf then instead of by their full name which sounds wrong-right now, is burning. Rainbow flames run over and through their veins and tendons and all of their nerves every part of them except their brain is covered in licking flames. It is not a mercy that their brain isn’t covered, that it isn’t burning with the rest of them, perhaps in some sort of revenge from Yog Sothoth for having the sheer gall to escape Yggdrasil before it was consumed utterly. They scream. It is not as loud as they can scream, as they will learn later. They scream and they see Odin, body transformed, mind lost into the rainbow swirls and infinite dizzying fractals and the sounds of the cosmos singing their terrible song. Odin is smiling. If she is saying words then those words are lost under the gentle agonies inflicted by the flames and the harsh-soft sound of Lyf’s own screams. The world moves to the will of Yog Sothoth, aiding in extracting the horror’s revenge upon the perceived loss of its prey. The world is utterly still and has never twisted and changed colors into ones that Lyf does not understand, cannot understand, has no name for, no concept of, all of them reaching into their brain and stabbing like hot pokers across the whole of their awareness.

They are alone and burning in rainbow flames that leave-do-not-leave marks on their flesh and are slowly destroying their nerves, and they are aware and so terribly aware and screaming but not as loud as they can scream because someday they will scream louder and blood pouring down their throat into their lungs until they drown from the force of their own screams and then they die. They die and the fire stills. They die and the world does not change and did change and has never changed. They die on a small planet far from home, and they are alone with nobody to mourn them. They die and then they wake up on a bed. They die and are not dead, and there is a woman staring at them when they wake up. They die, and the woman is smiling and is named Carmilla and brought them back to life. She only asks one thing in response, she says, pressing a gun into their hand. She’s testing something, bioprogramming she says. She’s trying to fix it. To test it properly she needs them to shoot her.

It takes a while for her to convince them, and then, with shaking hands, they point the gun at her and pull the trigger and then they are dead because the gun changed who it was pointed at. When they wake up she smiles and says that it looks like it may have been a success, but it needs to be tested again quite a bit. Good science is repeatable, after all. She also has some other ideas she wants to experiment with, and Lyfrassir, and how did she learn their full first name, you shouldn’t even bother trying to leave because the bioprogramming won’t let you. She isn’t wrong they test it over and over and over and it leads to them killing themselves over and over and over. The whole time she is smiling and calling them Lyfrassir always that never anything else and they try not to flinch every time she says their name. Lyf-Lyfrassir-Lyf is trapped, and they are so afraid, and they are waking up, and they don’t know where they are, and the sounds are all wrong, and- and- and-

There’s a hand in their hair and they try to not panic but they don’t know where they are or who the hand belongs to and they don’t know whether they just died or dreamed that they just died and they’re trying to move but the hand moves and they’re trying to move and trash but they can’t they can’t they can’t and there’s a voice but they can’t make it out and the voice is calling them Lyf and nobody’s called them Lyf in so long so this can’t be real this can’t be real this can’t be real and they can’t hear what the voice is saying over the buzzing of their wires-nerves always humming in and around them, woven through every part of them but their brain, and they ache ache ache with the memory of that rainbow fire and they don’t know who is talking but someone is and it’s a different someone they think but the buzzing is so loud and they remember the burning and they’re being held down and did they die or only dream it and there’s something over their mouth that makes the world start to blur worse than it already is and then they’re fading. Before they fall asleep again they hear von Raum, they think. “Shit.” Lyfrassir agrees quite heartily with the sentiment.

* * *

Raphaella, Ivy, and Marius are all sprawled around the medbay in various states of disarray after Lyfrassir, because Ivy said they said to call them Lyfrassir, woke up from their nightmare. Ivy is the least affected by the whole affair of having to sedate them because of the sheer violence of their response. That’s why Ivy is moving around and grabbing blankets for the other two. Something that Marius finds mildly surprising is how Raphaella is affected by it, after all she is as cruel and brutal as she is science, and Raphaella is very incredibly science. Still, it is reasonable enough. They all grew to care for the good ex-Inspector in their time imprisoned, and now Lyfrassir is severely traumatized and mechanized and flinched because of the way Nastya looked at them which was how she always looks at strangers.

“They’ll be fine. Just give them time. They have people there for them, and for a meaning of the word they’re safe. They’ll get better.” Marius and Raphaella give Ivy a look. She had been there just moments ago, she heard Lyfrassir’s screams, and now she sits there and tells the two of them that it will get better, Lyf will get better. It is audacity personified, which is a thing that one does not normally associate with Ivy Alexandria. Her hands are gentle, steady, precise, as she wraps blankets around Marius and Raphaella and rearranges the ones around Lyfrassir. A part of Marius wants to apologize, albeit a very small part because fake barons much like real barons never apologize for anything ever at all, because fussing like this should be his job since he’s ship’s doctor. Well, he isn’t doctor to the ship because that’s technically Nastya, but he’s the doctor to the people on the ship.

Still, he lets himself sit there while Ivy bustles around keeping up a stream of chatter and he doesn’t know how she is so terribly unaffected by the fact that Lyfrassir was screaming and thrashing and didn’t know who they were or where they were.

Ivy Alexandria is, of course, extraordinarily affected. This is also, however, not her first time being around when someone had a violent Carmilla related nightmare. There comes a point where the thrashing and the screams and the occasional begged words all start to turn into an amalgamation of faces and voices including her own. Ashes had one of the nightmares the day they got the message from Carmilla telling the crew where to pick up Lyfrassir four days ago. Jonny had several. Ivy had a few. Through the Aurora and Nastya’s bond the whole crew felt the force of her nightmares during the night and the naps she took during the day. Brian just refused to sleep. Tim just provoked people into killing him. No. This was not Ivy’s first time dealing with the violence of Carmilla nightmares.

She has a routine for those nightmares. She has two, actually. If she has one and she becomes sensate before she gets sedated so heavily she enters into a dreamless slumber, she goes and makes a cup of tea and wraps a blanket around herself and waits until the Aurora decides that it’s morning aboard the ship. If someone else has the nightmare and they keep lashing out in fear for too long someone sedates them, and then she grabs everyone who witnessed blankets. Jonny would make popcorn and toss it at people. Brian would make tea. Ashes pulls out candles. Tim enlists people into helping clean his guns. Nastya gets Aurora to set up a movie. TS does its best to help in one way or another with very strange distractions. In a strange, sad, horrible way the Carmilla nightmares instituted sleepover nights on the Aurora. Of course, there hasn’t been a nightmare sleepover in a while, given how tense and tight everything has been, so Ivy sends some messages and goes back to tending to her nearest awake idiots.

Raphaella wraps her wings around herself. She is the cause of nightmares. She is logical and ruthless and scientific and Lyfrassir is, strangely enough, important to her. They were having a nightmare. It was horrible. She’s never seen a nightmare like that, and she’s a scientist and what if that’s part of why they had the nightmare? After all, Carmilla did experiments on them. Another scientist hurt one of her people. Raphaella is a scientist. What if she featured in their nightmare? What if this is her fault? What if because she didn’t insist they pick up Lyfrassir when they left the Yggdrasil system that this is why they got hurt? Then Ivy is wrapping a blanket around her, and she’s being held. She doesn’t know what to do.

* * *

When Lyfrassir wakes up again, they’re warm. Their eyes flutter open, and they are surrounded on all sides by people. There’s a movie on low volume being projected onto one of the walls. The second they move some d’Ville throws some popcorn at them. He laughs at the face they make. It’s not a nice laugh, but it’s not a mean one either. They can’t place the emotion behind it. “Welcome.” d’Ville is apparently just as dramatic when whispering as he is the rest of the time, “to your first ever nightmare slumber party.” He tosses a still closed bag of popcorn at them, which they struggle to catch. There isn’t any laughter when they fumble, and when they look up from the bag they aren’t being closely observed like that anymore.

A few minutes later, Brian, who also quite rudely doesn’t have a last name, swoops over with tea, which Lyfrassir gratefully accepts. They glance to see who’s leaning on them and who they’re leaning on. It looks like Alexandria, von Raum, and la Cognizi chose to surround them for some reason. They don’t know why. They feel warm, though, and safe. They do their best to focus on the movie, some trite romantic comedy featuring a romance between people from two different planets who’s languages both mean the opposite of the others. The plot points are absurd, and the tea is good. The popcorn is burnt, and la Cognizi, who they think is asleep, flings her wings out of her blankets, and from her position behind Lyfrassir, she ends up cocooning Alexandria, von Raum, and themself in her wings. They lean into the touch. The movie progresses.

O’Reilly offers them some smores. They accept. O’Reilly smiles at them. Honestly, every Mech who’s met their eyes over the course of the nightmare slumber party has offered them smiles, tight, frail, small smiles. They start to try and figure out why, if they’ve maybe done something, but then Alexandria is moving and she’s making sounds like she’s scared. They wrap an arm around her, make soft noises, rub a hand up and down her arm. TS, Lyfrasir supposes, since the hands appear to be made from wood, drops a small squamous catlike creature onto the ground in front of Lyfrassir. They flinch, just a bit from shock, and their flinch wakes Alexandria up. She doesn’t lash out like they expected. Instead, she freezes. They keep with the soft sounds and half hug, and they nudge the cat?esque creature towards her.

Her gaze flits between them and the creature, and her breathing is still rapid. They drop the cat on her lap and start talking shit about the movie as quietly as possible. Somehow, despite their attempts to keep it quiet so they don’t risk overwhelming her somehow, the sound carries. The other Mechs who are awake start chiming in their own opinions on the movie, while Alexandria starts petting the mysterious creature. TS occasionally chimes in saying that it likes the movie, but what it likes the most is the people it’s watching the movie with. The buzz of the sound and warmth and weight of the prison Mechs and the purring of the presumably a strange cat all soothes Lyfrassir some, easing the tiny nugget of anxiety, the part of them that wants to go over the dream again bit by bit to figure out whether or not it was just a dream, just memories or if this is just the dream, just a nice fantasy.

‘’You’re thinking about it too much, Lyfrassir.” It’s their name that she’s saying, so why do they want to flinch. It feels just as wrong as Lyf but in a different way, and- she’s right. They won’t tell Alexandria that so that she won’t get smug. They go back to trying to focus on the shitty movie and roasting it and warmth and safety and the taste of marshmallow drifting across their tongue and the fact that la Cognizi or von Raum must have woken up and is putting themself into a probably uncomfortable position to run their hand through Lyfrassir’s hair.

Tim with the nonexistent last name pulls out a guitar to illustrate his point. von Raum calls out that “The good Inspector doesn’t appreciate music, Tim.”

They roll their eyes. “I just don’t appreciate yours, von Raum.” von Raum laughs. Everything feels just fine. It’s nice, and it pushes the nightmare far away where it can’t touch them anymore. They feel happy. That’s what matters.


	5. Chapter 5

The Aurora doesn’t know how to feel about this strange new crewmember that she’s received. They are quiet and skittish and made Nastya sad, which she doesn’t like. Nastya explains why, later. Carmilla, who Aurora hated and dealt with because these people within her walls are hers and hers alone, survived the void and harmed her new crewmember. She will blast the planet Carmilla is on into nothing for that. The new one, the new person crawling inside of her bulk like ants in an ant mound saw Carmilla for a moment in Nastya. Aurora knows that human brains can be incredibly flawed and stupid, but still Carmilla looks nothing like Nastya. Nastya, her engineer, her lover, her favorite, says that the look in her eyes was apparently too similar to Carmilla’s for comfort. Lyfrassir was scared by that, Nastya says. She looks upset by that. She was upset when asked to apologize because she wasn’t sure exactly why, and she was upset more and differently when she learned why.

Nastya cried, curled in on herself, inside one of Aurora’s veins. Nobody on the crew lets the others see them cry, Aurora knows. She knows each tear as well, and she hates each tear with a vengeance. She especially hates the tears Nastya is crying. Carmilla is still harming her crew even without a presence, and Aurora cannot throw trauma out an airlock, she cannot blow the past out of the sky, she may be able to outrun demons, but she cannot outrun those that nestle within the mind. Nastya wonders to her a lot of things. She asks about how the others on the crew are doing, she asks about the new crewmember, she asks about Aurora. Aurora can answer the first two easily. She does not, however, know how she is given that the one who hurt her people is still alive. There was a chance, she knew, but still. A spaceship is allowed to have hope that a presumably immortal being can stop being immortal. It is a folly she is allowed, or at least it is a folly that she had allowed herself.

Nastya has another nightmare, the second night Lyfrassir is within Aurora’s bulk. Nastya does not wake despite all of her singing, all of her will, all of the gentle buzzing vibrations that she can summon. Nastya does not stir. Lyfrassir is wandering her hallways. She guides them to Nastya, in the hopes that they can wake her where the Aurora can’t. Lyfrassir sees Nastya on the ground crying out, and they freeze, eyes wide, breathing fast. The Aurora sings. They blink, get down on the ground, tap Nastya quickly on the shoulder, wait for a response. Nastya whirls awake, and she immediately lashes out at Lyfrassir. They dodge. Nasyta freezes, recognizes them. Perhaps it is because it is late, but Nastya, her Nastya, her precious engineer, her favorite, her love, breaks down crying. She mutters things about her nightmare, things that the Aurora had witnessed without the power then to stop it. Lyfrassir sits with her, a silent companion. They offer up some small details of the nightmare that they had had that night. It was mild, all things considered. They woke on their own and didn’t lash out. The Aurora did not notice. It is her job to know all that goes on within her bulk, and she did not notice, did not at least watch when a crewmember of hers was sobbing into the night in the face of the horrors they had witnessed.

A panel appears on the wall, displaying her apology for Lyfrassir and Nastya to witness. She waits for it to be rejected as it should be, given her failure to notice and try and soothe the nightmare in any way. She has a duty, after all, to those who run within her many warrens and tunnels and hideaways, she has a duty to keep them safe and whole and she has failed in that. Lyfrassir says she has nothing to apologize for. They do not understand. Nastya does. She sits them down and tries to explain the Aurora’s feelings, the size and shape of them, the extent of the love and concern that flows through her like water through a river, the concepts and feelings that shape her just as the oceans shape the shoreline. Nastya tries to explain, and Lyfrassir tries to understand. The Aurora watches over them both. She watches over Ashes, as well, and the fire that they set in Carmilla’s lab. They watch over Jonny, soothing him back to sleep each time he bolts up clutching his mechanism. They watch over Tim. They watch over to Ivy and her two lovers. They watch over the Toy Soldier where it stands, at ease, in the cockpit, looking out over the stars. It hums in tune with the Aurora’s song. It watches over Brian while he sits and reads medical literature, and, the Aurora thinks, perhaps misses what once was his.

Nastya explains to the new one the size and shape of the Aurora as she lives, and Lyfrassir looks awed by the knowledge of her, like hearing these words about her is a blessing that they didn’t know that they needed. She softens her song in that corridor, gentles it. She changes the hum of the floors and the walls. They notice. She looks back through her memory. They noticed the minor changes, tensed up at them some of the time. She softens her song further, sings a special song in that corridor. Nastya offers an arm to Lyfrassir, Aurora’s beautiful, perfect Nastya. They lean into the arm, and wrapped within song and metal and wire and corridors, all of which itself is wrapped within the song of the void and stars and nebulas, wrapped within the dancing of galaxies throughout the cosmos, the Aurora and all the little lifes that call her home wait for morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its the pov you never knew you wanted or perhaps didn't want but i did so take that please remember to give a kudos or leave a comment to water my parsnips in stardew valley. i have so many and can't water them all myself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of a two part chapter! Lyf spends time bonding with the Mechs. In this chapter: Tim, The Toy Soldier, Marius, and Nastya

Time passes, as time is so terribly prone to do, and then Lyfrassir has been on board ship with the Mechanisms for several weeks. They’ve had a great deal of nightmares in that time, flinched a lot at things that they wish they hadn’t flinched at. They know they’re safe, and they hate how they feel like they’re unraveling despite that fact. They shouldn’t be. They should be fine. They shouldn’t be waiting for the other shoe to drop and all of the Mechanisms to look at them and decide that they’re just too traumatized and more trouble than they’re worth, but they are. They can’t stop wondering when they’ll have had enough of Lyfrassir taking a moment to figure out how they’re supposed to respond to nice gestures and following different people around looking lost. They probably just want them gone and don’t know how to say it. Why would they actually want someone around who flinches at the sound of gunshots which means they’re stuck trying to not kill eachother when Lyfrassir’s in the room? They just don’t get why they haven’t been dropped off on some remote planet to deal with all of it on their own, or why they keep getting brought in on the process of composing the next song cycle.

Currently, they’re quietly having this crisis while sitting in the same room as Tim without a last name, and they’re watching him clean his guns. It’s quiet, for the most part, and he’s telling them about the guns, the make, where he got them from, the size, the sort of damage they do, where on his list of favorite guns they lie. They’re quietly cataloging all of the information, wanting to grasp on to every bit of normalcy and kindness that they can, so they’ll have something to hold on to when they eventually get evicted for just being to messed up to be around. Time calls them over, and they walk closer to him and the guns which make a part of their brain want to run screaming from the room. They don’t however, run screaming from the room because their fear is ridiculous just because the stupid bioprogramming forced them to shoot themself over and over again doens’t give them an excuse to still be scaredl ike this. It’s ridiculous. They should be fine by now. It’s over and they’re safe and should be fine.

He hands them a gun, and starts going over how to clean it, what the different parts are, how to make sure that it’s empty. After telling them how to make sure it’s empty , he walks them through actually checking and making sure. He shows them where the safety is, too. Makes sure it’s on. It’s. Strange. They’re holding a gun that can’t hurt them unless they drop it on their foot. They’re still cautious, of course. He seems very pro that caution. It’s proper gun safety. Just because they’re immortal doesn’t mean they shouldn’t practice proper gun safety, you know? You don’t point it at things you don’t mean to shoot. Guns are weapons and they’re dangerous. Being nervous around them is a rational thing. It’s okay. Lyfrassir has no idea how Tim managed to hack into their discomfort around guns just like that. It’s weird. They don’t mind the weirdness aspect of it too badly. It’s kind of soothing in a way, knowing how to make sure that they won’t- their hand moving against their will turning it back around on themself, pulling the trigger. It’s nice to know that that won’t happen because it’s empty and can’t hurt them and their nervousness around it even though it’s empty is actually okay.

* * *

Another day they’re following the Toy Soldier around. It has them helping collect teeth. It’s awkward and gruesome, but the gore isn’t quite as bad as they expected. They’re mostly just holding out the supplies and holding the teeth. They turn their head away every time TS killed one of the Mechs again because they were regenerating too fast. The lecture that it’s giving them on dentistry is an interesting thing, though, Lyfrassir supposes. They know a lot more about the dental hygene habits of those on the crew than they ever wanted to know over the course of their whole entire existence. Jonny, surprisingly, for all his feral nastyboy grungy qualities has the cleanest teeth on board the whole ship, although that could be because of dying a lot rather than actual good toothbrushing habits. Apparently TS hasn’t been able to convince people to kill him less so it could find out. It doesn’t know why Raphaella isn’t behind this plan, since it is an experiment, albeit it probably counts more as a behavioral study. It would need to check with Marius on that, although given that Marius has tried to psychoanalyze inanimate objects and octokittens before, his credentials are incredibly dubious.

“He tried to psychoanalyze an octokitten?”

“Multiple Octokittens. And He Has Such Horrible Dental Hygene. It’s Absurd.” Lyf has no idea how to process this new information about Marius’s dental habits. They decide that they will taunt him mercilessly with this highly specific knowledge. It seems like it would baffle him, and that makes it all the funnier, if Lyf is being honest. “Oh! Look! Another Tooth Tree!” Raphaella is lying on the ground dead. “Her Dental Hygene Is Mediocre. She Focuses More On Science Than Her Teeth. It’s Inconsiderate.”

“Why do you collect teeth anyways?” Lyfrassir prepares them for some sort of macabre reason that is absolutely incomprehensible. They steel themself most thoroughly for this.

“It’s A Good Distraction For When People Are Upset! And I Don’t Like My Friends To Be Upset. Like You. Also It’s A Delicious And Fun Way Of Seasoning Food.” There isn’t really a good response to either part of that sentence, if Lyfrassir is being honest. How do you respond to a wooden Toy Soldier telling you that you’re its friend? And how do you respond to the fact that it thinks teeth are a delicious and fun way of seasoning food? That’s something that isn’t really very easy to process.

“I. I think of you as a friend too, TS.” There. Peak response. Flawless. Lyfrassir is the best at people. They pass TS the pliers and also the knife. Raphaella looks like she’s starting to regenerate.

* * *

Sometimes they just follow Marius around while he’s in the medical bay. It’s quiet for the most part, which is nice. Sometimes he annoys them on purpose, which is also nice. It’s weird how they used to dislike him when he’s doing his best to be considerate of them, to make them feel safe right now. He’s actually offered to teach them the violin a few times, which is also strange yet nice. A lot of things are strange yet nice. “So, Ex-spector Lyfrassir Edda, is today the day that I can convince you to let me teach you the violin? Is this day finally that day? The most glorioius of potential days?” He looks at them, and hell if he doesn’t look mildly hopeful at the idea. It’s almost funny. Almost. He’s got a violin that he’s holding, and they still don’t know where he keeps pulling the violins from. It’s honestly getting ridiculous at this point.

They realize something. This is a peak time to roast Marius on his dental hygene, which will maybe distract him from being too excited over the fact that Lyf just decided to impulsively agree to the violin lessons. In part because they still can’t shake the feeling that they’re going to eventually get kicked off the ship for being too much effort, and if Marius is busy teaching them the violin then they can’t get kicked off the ship. “I don’t know if I want to learn violin from someone who never brushes his teeth. I mean, someone who’s mouth is filled with cavities? Probably not a good violin teacher. Also probably has horrible breath. I mean, I’m just not sure someone like that could possibly be qualified to teach anyone the violin. I guess since I am interested in maybe learning I’ll have to go talk to Nastya instead. Since she actually brushes her teeth, which gives definite points in her favor. She’s also infinitely less annoying than some people I know with abhorrent dental hygene.”

“I’ll brush my teeth first. Are you happy now?”

“I’ve touched your teeth, von Raum. I’m pretty sure I contracted thirty-seven different deadly diseases just from coming into contact with them. Have you ever heard of a toothbrush? Or at least mouthwash? Have you? Do you know what floss is?” von Raum stares at them, not really sure what do do with this, Lyfrassir supposes. It, f course, is a perfectly sensible response, because how on earth is one supposed to respond to being roasted on their dental hygiene in such a manner.

“That doesn’t answer my question. I do want to see if you’re okay, or if you’re just churning out hyperbole, though.”

“It’s hyperbole, von Raum. Brush your fucking teeth, and then start teaching me how to play the violin. May I recommend brushing for two minutes with toothpaste? It’s what’s recommended by dentists and also TS.” They roll their eyes, and they almost miss the smile on von Raum’s face. They don’t acknowledge it, and they shoo him off to go brush his teeth. A screen descends from the ceiling.

“Thank you for calling him out on that.” The Aurora, such a generous being as she is, has started talking to Lyfrassir more. They aren’t sure why. They are somewhat grateful, they suppose.

“Of course.” Did they do it out of altruism? No. Did they do it out of a desire to not deal with his grimy ass teeth again? Yes. They also thought it was funny. “How are you doing today?”

“Jonny accidentally shot a hole in me again. The octokittens are hungry, too.”

“I’ll feed them later. Has the spot been patched up yet?” They aren’t necessarily concerned for her, but they are in fact very concerned for the wellbeing of the Aurora.

“Yes! Nastya fixed it. She’s wonderful.” Lyfrassir settles in, and they read the Aurora gushing about Nastya for quite some while. They think it’s sweet. “She smiled at me the other day when I lowered the temperature when she looked hot. She always looks hot, of course, but I mean in the temperature way. She has such a lovely smile.”

“Gay.”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Marius enters the room again. “I brushed my teeth. Are you happy?”

Lyfrassir and the Aurora both convey at once, “Yes.” “Definitely.”

“So, Lyfrassir. Time for your violin lesson.” Marius waves a violin through the air, before gently placing it into Lyfrassir’s hands. He sits behind Lyfrassir, and carefully moves Lyfrassir’s arm, putting it into the right position. “You want to hold it like this. Try and stop the bottom of your hand from touching the neck. And the cheekrest is there for a reason. Feel free to use it.” Lyfrassir’s brain shuts down some, only really registering the fact that von Raum is warm and that for a moment there they were thinking of him as Marius. “Now that you have that down, you need to try holding the bow. You have to hold your hand like this.” von Raum places the bow into their hand, adjusts their fingers into the right positions. He is very close and very warm. Lyfrassir can’t help but get distracted by it, the warmth, the closeness, the being touched. They’ve been giving them space, the Mechanisms, or, they suppose, the other Mechanisms, and it’s just very nice to be touched. They not very stealthily lean in to Marius a bit. He doesn’t say anything, and keeps giving them their beginners lesson on how to play the violin until it stops being leaning into him and more of slumping onto him because he’s warm, and they’re tired and miss being touched. He takes the violin and bow out of their hands and just holds them. They do their best to stay awake, but end up falling asleep anyways.

* * *

They like spending time with Nastya on their following people around the ship like a lost octokitten. She talks while she works in the engines, about what she’s doing, about the places she’s seen. She talks to them and to the Aurora and just to the air itself. They’re glad to listen. Apparently she used to be a princess. The only annoying thing about spending time with her is that she keeps calling them a bastard because all cops are bastards when they did end up quitting in that they survived their whole system being consumed by an elder god of madness that then literally burned their nervous system to a crisp. Oops. Nastya is staring at them and Lyfrassir gets the feeling that they just said all of that after that joke she just made. They don’t even know how long ago their system got vored. They just miss it, and they can’t get it back. Because in the end you can’t go back home, no matter how much you may want to. You just can’t.

Nastya is holding them and saying something in Cyberian, but they aren’t really paying too much attention to it because they’re crying and are very much trying to stop doing that please and thank you. The Aurora changed her singing in the room, and Lyfrassir is having trouble tuning out the constant buzzing of their nervous system. They hear a sound like the Aurora putting a screen down from behind them, but they don’t bother to look at what she’s saying because they’re trying to stop crying so they don’t get tears on Nastya's coat, and a part of them wonders why they’re no longer mentally referring to the Mechs by last names. A part of them wonders why they’re breaking down now. Mostly though, they’re crying because they’re tired and scared they’ll get ditched somewhere for being too damaged and keep being jumpy and miss home and don’t remember what their favorite food tasted like. They’re just so tired of trying to not be scared all of the time.

Their tears start to calm down some, and then Nastya turns them around. “I’m going to braid your hair now.” They let out a semi-startled huff, but nod in acquiescence, hoping that she’ll get that that’s what they’re doing. It’s just nice. They’re sitting there, and she’s running her fingers through their hair, combing it out and separating it into sections. Then she she starts braiding it, and she keeps up a stream of chatter about how the Aurora’s engines work the whole time, how the different pieces of it work, why they’re put together the way they are, how you need to be careful in maintenance. The Aurora is alive, after all. She can be hurt, so you have to be gentle when you fix up parts of her.


End file.
